


found

by Esbion



Series: would smell as sweet [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Childhood Friends, F/F, Friendship/Love, M/M, Ministry of Magic (Harry Potter), Multi, Platonic Soulmates, Post-Hogwarts, Romantic Soulmates, Slytherin Albus Severus Potter, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-11-10
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:39:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25487119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Esbion/pseuds/Esbion
Summary: Scorpius Malfoy wants to find his soulmate. The problem is, he doesn't have a Mark.
Relationships: Astoria Greengrass/Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Lily Luna Potter/Original Female Character(s), Rose Weasley/Original Female Character(s), Scorpius Malfoy & Albus Severus Potter, Scorpius Malfoy/Albus Severus Potter, Scorpius Malfoy/Louis Weasley, Teddy Lupin/James Sirius Potter
Series: would smell as sweet [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/876000
Comments: 14
Kudos: 41
Collections: Scorbus





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> bringing back my old SAU for AUgust

Scorpius hadn’t meant to eavesdrop. He had been strolling down the hallway in Malfoy Manor, headed to the kitchen for his lunch, when he heard voices coming from the east-wing living room.

“The boy’s nearly twenty-two,” Lucius scoffed, “of course he has his Mark.”

“He’s just a late bloomer,” Draco replied.

Scorpius froze mid-step, his ears automatically tuning in to a conversation he knew was about him. His father and grandfather were talking quite loudly; it was impossible for him to be walking down this hallway without hearing.

Scorpius peeked around the corner to see his father sitting in front of his grandfather on the smaller chair, Lucius having taken the large, emerald-velvet throne next to the fireplace. Though his hair-- shoulder-length and straight, not unlike Scorpius’s own--had gone gray and wrinkles had formed on his eighty-year-old face, he maintained the haughty air of a man who was a descendent of a long line of wealthy purebloods and knew it. He sat back in his chair, pouring himself a glass of elf-wine with a single flick of his wand.

“He’s lying,” Lucius said, the sneer audible in his voice. “He probably has the name of some Mudblood or blood traitor.”

Scorpius stiffened, his fingers instinctively reaching for the blank spot on his forearm. The place on his father’s skin where his mother’s name was inscribed, permanently, though his mother had passed away seven years prior. Scorpius had always assumed his own soulmate’s name would appear when he hit puberty, just like everyone else. Over the years, he had grown taller and his voice had deepened but the Mark did not show up, though he searched his entire body. His schoolmates had gotten their Marks by the time they were of age, but not him.

He was beginning to think maybe he never would.

“Scorpius is not a liar,” Draco responded quickly but Scorpius noticed his second of hesitation.

"People are going to start talking, you know. They will say he’s a Muggle-lover.”

“If someone insults him," Draco said, clenching his jaw, "I'll make sure they regret it."

“Of course. But do not allow Scorpius to keep secrets from you. You should do a full body check.”

“He’ll-- he’ll tell me when he’s ready.”

“Hmph. You’re too lenient, Draco.” Lucius poured himself another glass of wine. He and Draco sat in silence, drinking from their glasses.

Scorpius turned away and was about to walk down the hallway when he heard his grandfather speak again.

“Perhaps it is because of his mother.”

Draco slammed his glass on the table. “No. No, that’s not--you can’t blame Astoria--”

“That boy is going to be a disgrace...and it’s because you decided to marry a Muggle-sympathizing whore.”

Scorpius found himself backing away from the door. He knew what was coming, and he didn’t want to hear it. Lucius had barely tolerated Astoria in life, and had no respect for her in death. Scorpius had heard countless times how much his grandfather hated that Astoria supported her sister Daphne who’d married a Muggle, how shameful it was that Astoria let her half-blood nephew and niece run around the Malfoys’ ancestral home.

He hurried down the hallway and, instead of turning left to go towards the kitchen, headed down the stairs to go to the potions room.

It had been his mother’s idea, converting a section of the dark, musty dungeon into a place where she could the create the potions that took the edge off her constant pain. He could almost feel her presence in the room, from the black marble counters she’d picked out to the bins full of ingredients labeled in her curly scrawl. The room was perfectly quiet, with stone walls blocking out any clanking from the house-elves working in the kitchen or the distant cries of the peacocks in the garden. Scorpius took a deep breath, the pace of his heart returning to normal. He checked the list on the wall for the next potion he needed to make.

Scorpius tied up his hair and got to work. He lit the fire under his favorite polished-silver cauldron and began chopping ingredients, his hands moving instinctively, trained by years of practice. As Scorpius went through the process of making his anxiety-relief potion-- he had enough to last him at least a month, but it was always good to have extra--Scorpius couldn’t stop thinking about soulmates.

Usually, his lack of a Mark did not bother him. There were worse things in life than being single. As a Healer, he saw sickness and injury up close every day. Not knowing your soulmate was a trivial problem, compared to losing a limb to a minatour or heaving up your own organs as a result of a curse.

It’s not like Scorpius was alone. He had a family, he had friends. He had several flings, though none of them lasted very long. So what if he was going to be forever single and not have what everyone else had?

There was only one person Scorpius had thought might be his soulmate. But only because that boy had been convinced that they were meant for each other.

Albus Severus, his ex-best friend.

Memories flashed through Scorpius’ head as he thought about their years together. Sitting under a tree on the Hogwarts grounds, both of them reading their own books in perfect silence. Hours spent in the Slytherin common room just talking or playing chess while everyone else slept. Sharing their warmth in Albus’s bed after Scorpius had woken up from one of the panic-fueled nightmares, which started after his mother died. Spending half his summer at Albus’s house and being accepted like he was family.  
It was the summer after fifth year when he had first noticed how jealous Albus could be. Albus was furious when he found his cousin Louis and Scorpius kissing. He made Scorpius promise to break it off. Albus had led Scorpius to his room and showed Scorpius his notebook with the soulmate prediction model he was developing, taking into account star charts and personality types. _We're meant to be_ , he had said. To which Scorpius had said, _we’ll see_.

In the next couple years, Scorpius told himself that getting a Mark was not something to worry about, not until it happened. Albus, on the other hand, was sure that they were destined for each other, their compatibility an objective fact. He made it clear how much he disapproved of anyone else being interested in Scorpius, saying that they had ulterior motives (and sometimes he was right.) He even intercepted Scorpius’s owl mail, throwing out letters from admirers.

In retrospect, Scorpius should have seen the betrayal coming.

\---

_Scorpius opened his eyes to see the arched ceiling of the hospital wing above. His sight was blurry, and his head full of fog. “_

_Scor?” said a voice from above him._

_Scorpius blinked, his blurry vision changing and the face in front of him coming into focus. Albus was standing over him. Suddenly it came back to him, the reason he was lying in a hospital bed. The party. The spiked drink. The convulsions that had racked his body, causing him to collapse on the ground._

_“Y-you’re awake.” Albus said shakily, leaning towards him._

_Scorpius sat up so fast that his head whirled. He glared at Albus. “Why?”_

_“I--I don’t know what you’re talking about.”_

_“_ _It was you, you put a Spasmic Solution in that drink. Why?”_

_Albus looked away. “It wasn’t for you.”_

_“_ _Who was it for?” Scorpius knew the answer to the question, but he wanted to hear Albus say it._

_Albus fiddled with the button on the sleeve of his ill-fitting gray dress robes-- he was never one to care about his appearance, even for the annual Victory Ball._

_Scorpius’s fists curled around the edge of the thin bedsheet. “You were going to poison Nott, weren’t you?”_

_Albus's silence was an answer in of it itself. He refused to meet Scorpius's gaze and instead stared out the window, looking at the moon._

_“Why?” Scorpius demanded._

_Albus folded his arms over his chest. “He’s a terrible person, that’s why.”_

_“_ _No, you’re a terrible person,” Scorpius said, his voice coming out more sharp than he intended._

_“It was just a mild--”_

_“There's no such thing as a_ mild _Spasmic Solution. It’s terrifying, going into fits like that.” Scorpius said, looking down at himself. He could still feel the ghost of the tingling feeling he’d gotten the moment he’d downed the glass of wine, a tingling feeling that grew into full-blown convulsions taking over his muscles. He was trapped inside the vessel of a body he could not control. It was like a panic attack, but ten times worse. “I can’t believe you would do that to someone.”_

_Albus glanced over at him and gave a heavy sigh. He reached out, his fingers brushing against Scorpius’s bandaged forehead bruise on the spot where he had hit the hard floor. It was the kind of gentle, absentminded touch which he had taken to doing lately. Looking up at him and his red, puffy eyes, Scorpius felt a twinge of guilt; perhaps he was being too harsh._

_“This wouldn’t have happened if you had told me about him.”_

_Scorpius’s sympathy vanished. He swatted Albus’s hand away from his head, making Albus blink in surprise. “You’re blaming me for this? I don’t have to tell you everything.”_ _But he did tell Albus everything-- his fears, his secrets, his dreams. The only reason he would hide something from Albus is if he knew it would upset him. Nathan Nott had asked Scorpius to go with him to the annual Victory Ball, because Nott’s own date had bailed at the last minute. Initially, Scorpius had planned to not take a date and just hang out with his friends. But Scorpius was always willing to do a favor for a person in need._

_“If I’d told you, you wouldn’t have let me do it.” As soon as Scorpius said it, he realized that it sounded like something a child would say to a parent, that he wasn’t allowed to do something. And why should Albus get to decide that?_

_“You are so naive,” Albus snapped, “Nott doesn’t care about you, he only wants one thing.”_

_“One thing?”_

_“He wants to shag you.” Albus was scowling, his hands clenched around the bedframe._

_“So...just like you, then?”_

_“That’s different-- I, I’m your soulmate--”_

_“You don’t know that. ”_

_“According to my prediction model, there is an 87% chance--”_

_“Your 'prediction model' is dragonshit.”_

_Albus blinked, taken aback. He looked almost_ hurt _._ _Scorpius instantly felt an urge to apologize but then he remembered that it was him in a hospital bed, him who’d been inadvertently poisoned by his supposed best friend. If the situation were reversed, Scorpius would have been begging for forgiveness. Not that he would do something like that in the first place._

_Scorpius turned his back on Albus so he wouldn’t see the tears forming in his eyes. “Go away,” he said, unable to step the crack in his voice. “Please.”_

_“But--” Albus started to say something, then changed his mind. He walked away without another word._

\---

Scorpius contemplated as he stirred, finishing up the potion and pouring it into individual bottles. Then he left the room, heading for his own bedroom.

When he finally returned to his room, to his surprise, he found his father sitting there on his bed, waiting for him.

“We need to talk,” Draco said seriously.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong. It’s just...you’re almost twenty-two.”

“Yes?”

Draco cleared his throat. “I was around your age when I proposed to your mother. I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her, because she was my soulmate-- she is my soulmate.” He glanced down at his arm, the tattoo which he always kept exposed like a badge reminding the world of his love. “I want you to have that, too.”

Scorpius sighed. “Dad, for the millionth time, I don’t have a Mark.”

“I know. But they might.”

Scorpius frowned at his father.

“You don’t have a name,” Draco explained, “...but your special person might have your name.” Scorpius wasn’t sure that was how it worked, but he did not interrupt his father. “So all you need to do is find the person who has your name. There’s a Mark Registry in the Ministry of Magic, they have records for every wizard and witch in the country.”

“That’s classified information.”

“Nothing is classified if you pay the right price.” Draco said, producing a small sack that bulged with Galleons.

“I can’t bribe a Ministry official, that’s not right--” Scorpius shook his head, refusing to take the money.

“Doesn’t your great-uncle Gareth work in the Department of Mysteries? See if he can help you out.”

“Dad, I don’t need this,” said Scorpius.

“I’m just saying, think about it.” Draco stood up and headed towards the door, leaving the sack of money on Scorpius’ desk.

\---

“You know I can’t do that, Scorpius.” Great-uncle Gareth said with a sigh, looking at him over his glasses as he sat at his huge oaken desk, appropriate for a Senior Unspeakable. “Frankly, I’m surprised you had the nerve to ask.”

“Sorry,” said Scorpius, looking down at the floor.

“The Mark Registry is classified information. So, unless you want to apply for an internship, which you can do after studying Markology for two years...”

“No thanks. I’m happy at St. Mungo’s.”

“I thought so.” Great-uncle Gareth smiled at him. “Don't worry about Marks and such. You’re young, you have plenty of time to figure it out.”

Scorpius gave a halfhearted smile. “Yeah, I know.”

“So, how’s everything else? How’s your father doing?” Uncle Gareth asked.

“He’s doing well, thanks.”

“Good, good,” Gareth glanced at the wall clock. “Well, it looks like it’s almost closing time, so--”

There was a knock at the door. “Mr. Greengrass?”

Scorpius’s heart gave a jolt. He would have known that voice anywhere. But no, it couldn’t be...

The door opened.

Scorpius could feel his heart beating fast. Then suddenly he was in front of a familiar face-- a pale, stoic boy with a dark mop of hair and brilliant green eyes. “What are you doing here?” blurted Albus, looking just as shocked at Scorpius felt.


	2. Chapter 2

Albus could hardly believe his eyes.

He and Scorpius stared at each other.

“What are _you_ doing here?” Scorpius retorted.

“Dropping off documents,” Albus said, walking towards Mr. Greengrass’s desk, being very careful not to bump his shoulder against Scorpius’s as he did so.

Scorpius glanced at his Ministry-approved navy blue robes. “You-- you work here?” he asked, stating the obvious.

Albus ignored him.

Mr. Greengrass raised his eyebrows. “You two know each other?”

Albus avoided looking in Scorpius’s direction. “He was my...uh...”

_Friend._

_Best friend._

_Soulmate._

“We were in the same House,” Albus finished lamely. He dumped the scrolls on the desk. “Here’s the transcripts from today’s meeting. I’m going to check out for the day.”

With that, he turned around and headed out the door.

As he stepped into the hallway, he breathed a sigh. Scorpius was a Greengrass through his mom’s side. Albus should’ve known Scorpius would turn up to visit his great-uncle sooner or later. It was no big deal. Just the first time he had seen him in four years. He couldn’t help remembering the event that ended their friendship.

\--

_Albus drew in a sharp breath when he saw his best friend. He was clad in satin champagne dress robes with authentic pearl buttons down the front, complementing his alabaster skin and snow-white hair. His face was shining and radiant. He looked almost angelic._

_“Ready?” asked Scorpius._

_“Ugh,” Albus said, struggling to button up his collar. “Why do we have to go to a stupid ball anyway?”_

_“Because it's the anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts and we're finally seventeen and we get to go without having to crash the party?” Scorpius gushed._

_Every time May 2nd rolled around, the students were relegated to their dormitories while all the important adult wizards got to celebrate with a formal party. Albus sighed. Scorpius was the sole reason he was going to this ball; it was hard to say no when his best friend's eyes lit up at the very thought of formal dances and expensive hors deorves._

_And he was going to make the night extra special. Tonight was the night they'd dance together and kiss under the stars and then come back to the dorm and fall into bed together, the passionate culmination of their seven years at Hogwarts. Older wizards always said, save yourself for the person whose name would appear on your skin sometime during puberty. Because you were perfect for them and vice versa._

_“Hey,” said Scorpius, “what in Merlin’s name did you do to your hair?”_

_“I just, you know, smoothed it out.” It had taken him forever to tame his normally wild hair, but he’d done it._

_“It looked better before.”_

_“What?” He’d thought Scorpius would like it-- after all, Scorpius spent hours on his own hair, using a bunch of different products that Albus didn’t even know the names of._

_“I mean-- it’s not bad, it’s just not very you.”_

_“He’s right, it looks atrocious.” Albus glanced over to see his cousin Rose appearing out of nowhere, strutting into the Slytherin dorm despite being a Gryffindor. She too is dressed to impress, in a shimmering golden dress with an unnecessarily long train, her trademark Weasley hair cascading in lovely red curls over her shoulders._

_“You look amazing, Rose,” said Scorpius._

_“I know.”_

_“I told you the gold would be perfect.” Scorpius reached out and felt the dress._

_“You were right.” She put her hands on her hips. “Now you can go downstairs, and I'll fix Al’s hair.”_

_“Are you sure?” asked Scorpius._

_“Yeah. Being late is fashionable, anyway.” She turned to Albus. “Now let's fix this abomination.”_

_“I can do my own hair,” Albus protested, but Rose was already dragging him to the nearest bed and forcing him to sit down in front of him. She began to ruffle his hair._

_As soon as Scorpius left the room, Rose asked, “So, you're not still trying to get in his pants, are you?”_

_“Er...”_

_Rose stopped messing with his hair. “He didn’t tell you, did he?”_

_“Tell me what?”_

_“He has a date. Nott’s girl broke up with him at the last minute and he asked Scor to go with him instead.”_

_“Oh please. I’m not going to let Nott get in the way of my perfect night.”_

_Rose narrowed her eyes. “What does that mean?”_

_“You’ll see.”_

_“You better not do anything funny.”_

_“I won’t. Nott will probably ditch Scor anyway, he’s a jerk.”_

_By the time Rose and Albus got downstairs, the party was in full swing. Music was blasting from above, filling the air. People were dancing, hundreds of people moving to the music. The Great Hall was lit up with a thousand floating fairy lights and the walls, tables, and chairs covered in some kind of golden veneer. Albus supposed it was nice, in a superficial kind of way._

_He spotted Scorpius right away, in his almost-white finery, standing out among the mostly dark robes of the others. Scorpius was dancing with Nott, swaying to the music, and Nott was whispering something in his ear. Albus didn’t like the way Nott was touching him, his hand lingering on the small of Scorpius’s back a little too long after the song had ended._

_At the end of the song, Scorpius and Nott headed for the table where the one group of purebloods who had dared to show up were sitting, including Draco Malfoy. Nott was making conversation with Draco, smiling and nodding. Albus gritted his teeth watching them exchange pointless pleasantries._

_He waved across the room. Scorpius saw him and his eyes lit up. He stood up, about to walk towards Albus, when Nott grabbed his arm and dragged him back to the dance floor._

_Albus sighed. At least the food is good, he thought to himself as he chomped away at the food that appeared on his plate. Other people around were snacking on small appetizers and pastries, little bites that would keep the hunger away in between dances, but Albus didn’t want to spend time with anyone except Scorpius._ _So he didn’t. He simply sat and waited._

_And waited._

_And waited._

_He kept his eyes on Scorpius the whole time. Scorpius danced with at least five different people-- mostly Nott, but also Parkinson and Goyle and some other person Albus didn’t know. He didn’t turn down anyone. Albus wished his best friend wasn’t so_ nice _._

_Finally, Scorpius came over to the table. “Hey,” he said breathlessly, plopping down next to Albus. His face was flushed, his bangs beginning to stick to his forehead._

_“I want to dance with you next.”_

_Scorpius blinked in confusion. “You_ hate _dancing.”_

Not if it’s you _, Albus thought._

_“I’ve been practicing.”_

_“Oh,” Scorpius stared longingly at the plate of food. “Can I eat first?”_

_“Yeah,” Albus said, “Have a tart, they’re delicious.”_

_Nott appeared behind him, holding two glasses of something light and fizzy, and took a seat at the table. “Got one for you,” he told Scorpius._

_“No thanks.”_

_“He’s a lightweight,” Albus explained._

_“Really? Just one drink won’t hurt.” he pushed the glass closer to Scorpius._

_“He said no,” Albus snapped, and pushed the glass back towards Nott. He glared at Nott. The bloke just smirked in return. It was a smirk that reminded Albus of his brother, James, except it was more sinister than mischievous._

_“Anyway,” Nott said in a low voice to Scorpius, “...this party sucks, there are way too many degenerates here.”_

_“What do you mean ‘degenerates’?” Albus cut in. “Mudbloods?”_

_“Shhh...” said Scorpius. “Don’t say that word.”_

_“I’m just saying what he meant. Of course there are a lot of Muggle-borns and halfbloods here, considering that was_ the entire point of the battle _.”_

 _“_ _And you know all about that, huh,_ Potter?” _He said Albus’s last name with vitriol._

_Albus stood straight up. “Excuse me?”_

_“Guys, let’s stop fighting,” Scorpius said, taking Albus’s hand and giving a squeeze, “just calm down, okay?”_

_Albus sat back down. He picked up his fork and angrily took a bite of cake, accidentally knocking his knife over in his haste. Albus reached down to pick up the knife when he noticed something._ _U_ _nder the table, Nott had his hand on Scorpius’s thigh._

_Albus had never been so disgusted._

_He sat up, giving Nott a look of pure revulsion._

_“Hey,” said Nott, “It’s my favorite song.” He grabbed Scorpius by the arm and then the two of them were off, going back to the dance floor._

_While they were dancing, Albus reached into his robes and took out the vial he had brought. He admired the iridescence of the Spasmic Solution, how it sparkled in the light. Desperate times called for desperate measures. He poured the solution into Nott’s glass, smirking to himself._

_A minute later, Scorpius was back at the table. “Whew,” he said, “I’m thirsty.”_

_“Have a drink,” Nott nudged the cocktail towards him._

Wait, which glass was it? _Albus felt a spike of panic._

_“Don’t drink that!”_

_Nott scoffed, “You don’t have to listen to him.”_

_“_ _Yeah, Albus, you’re not my dad,” Scorpius said._

_“_ _No!”_

_He took a huge swig._

_The effects were almost immediate. Scorpius began to tremble, his body quivering. “Wh-what’s happening?”_

_He stood up, knocking over his chair as he did so. He was taking shaky, gasping breaths as he got redder by the second._

_Albus couldn't move, couldn't think. He didn't know what to do, couldn't do anything but stand there watching. Someone started yelling, calling for him to be taken to the hospital wing. Albus saw the expression in Scorpius's eyes as he was dragged away, the look of pure hurt._

\--

As Albus walked back to the Mark Registry just across the hall, he heard footsteps approaching him from behind.

“What do you want?” Albus asked, not bothering to turn around.

“I--I just want to talk.” Scorpius sounded hesitant, almost nervous.

“I have no time for chitchat.” Albus walked into the office.

Scorpius followed him into the office, a surprisingly bold move. “I didn’t know you worked here. I thought you were overseas doing your studies.”

“I finished my degree last year.”

“So you’re an intern now?”

Albus nodded, hurrying to get his jacket and bag.

“Congratulations. It’s your dream job, isn’t it?”

“Thanks.” Of course Scorpius remembered it was his dream job. Albus cleared his throat. “Now I have to close up for the day, so if you could just leave...”

“I have a favor to ask.”

“What?”

“Well...it’s about my Mark...”

Albus’s heart sped up. He felt an urge to touch the spot at the back of his neck, right where his own Mark had been hidden under his dark mop of hair. It was impossible to see by himself; he hadn’t known it was there until his mum pointed it out while she was trimming his hair a couple months after graduation.

A single word, inscribed in a dark elegant scrawl.

_Scorpius._

Albus had been right all along, but by then it was too late. He had lost him.

“What about it?” Albus asked carefully.

“I don’t have one.”

Albus finally turned his gaze towards Scorpius. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah,” he shifted uneasily. “I really don’t.”

 _He doesn’t know_ , Albus realized, staring at him in disbelief. Scorpius had grown his hair out. It suited him, the white-blond silky drapes framing his exquisite face, reaching down to his prominent collarbones. So his Mark was continuously covered, even when getting his hair cut.

“Well, that’s...er...interesting.” Albus continued to take in Scorpius’s appearance. Scorpius had shed some of his left baby fat, his face becoming less round and more angular. He was clad in simple black robes that fit his tall, lithe figure perfectly. He had become _more_ attractive in the past three years, something Albus hadn’t thought was possible.

“My dad thinks that, though I might not have a Mark, the other person might and if we search the Mark Registry files for someone who has my name we can find my future spouse.”

Albus laughed; he couldn’t help it.

He happened to know that Draco Malfoy had not married the person who, according to tradition, should have been his mate. Draco’s arm tattoo was a fake. His true Mark was located on his hip, according to the photograph in his file. It was Albus’s dad. (Another thing that Albus found out the day he found about his own Mark, when his mother couldn’t resist quipping “like father, like son” and then had to explain). But Draco and Harry had never been anything other than rivals. In another universe maybe they would’ve been something else, but not in this one.

Scorpius frowned. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing, nothing. It’s just...a lot of people do not end up with their supposed soulmates. What you need to do is get to know someone who _isn’t_ with their soulmate. Then, if you want you can fake a Mark.”

“...you’re saying...I should lie?” Scorpius said, horrified.

“Yeah.” Albus said, going over to his desk. “Now please leave, I have work to do.” He sat down and started organizing his scrolls, putting them into their places.

Scorpius followed him and hovered over his desk, crossing his arms. “What about your soulmate prediction model?”

 _The one you called 'dragonshit'?_ Albus thought, but didn’t say.

“That won’t work because...uh...you’re Markless. Yes. It just happens sometimes, people not having a Mark,” Albus said, impressing himself with his ability to lie on the spot.

“Oh.” Scorpius said. “But, you can still search the registry, can’t you? Just in case there’s someone else out there who has my name?”

“I told you, that’s not how it works,” Albus said, slamming a drawer shut. “Also, you do realize that’s illegal?”

“Well...yes, but...”

“ _You_ want to do something illegal?” This was the same guy who got upset when underage wizards smoked gillyweed.

Scorpius shifted uncomfortably. “I’ll pay you as much as you want.”

“Unspeakables aren’t allowed to talk about what goes on in here, they’ve taken Unbreakable Vows. If you break the Vow, you _die_.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.” Scorpius flushed pink. “Just forget I asked.” He backed away from Albus, moving towards the door.

“Good thing I’m not an Unspeakable.”

“Huh?”

“I’m just an intern, I haven’t taken the Vow yet.”

Scorpius stared at him. “So...is that a ‘yes’? You’ll help me?”

“You have to promise not to tell anyone.”

Scorpius’s eyes-- hazel with gold flecks, the kind of eyes people wrote poems about-- lit up. “I promise. Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet. Come back Tuesday morning, my supervisor won’t be in that day.”

Scorpius nodded. “I don’t work Tuesdays, so that works out. Okay, see you then.”

Albus watched him go, an odd squirming feeling in his stomach.


	3. Chapter 3

“Ugh, you’re going to the Mark Registry?” said the random witch beside Scorpius in the lift.

He glanced down at his Ministry of Magic visitor’s badge self-consciously. “Yes, I am.”

“That is the _boringest_ office in the Department of Mysteries,” said the other witch beside her, chewing her bubblegum loudly.

“Yeah,” the first wrinkled her nose.

“And it’s all pureblood-supremacist rubbish.”

“Excuse me?” Scorpius said, taken aback.

“Yeah, that’s the whole point, isn't it? Cracking down on Muggle-lovers.”

“That’s not true.” Scorpius said, shifting uncomfortably. Albus was the opposite of a pureblood supremacist. Scorpius had grown up hearing _sanctimonia vincent semper_ , the motto that was on the Malfoy family crest. _Purity will always conquer._ He had never quite believed it; he liked his halfblood cousins though they were disowned by their extended family. But It was Albus who exposed Scorpius to the idea that Muggleborns were just as good as anyone else and wasn’t afraid to say it in front of other Slytherins. He was bold in a way that both horrified and impressed Scorpius.

The witch scoffed. “Of course it’s true, the founder of the Registry hated Muggleborns.” She peered at him. “Hey, aren’t you that Malfoy kid?”

There was a ding as the lift stopped at the 9th floor and Scorpius hurried out of the lift before he could answer the question. It was eight in the morning, and the hallway was empty. His footsteps echoed as he walked down the office corridor. On this floor, the black-tiled walls were bare with no windows and no doors, apart from one at the end of the corridor that led into the Department of Mysteries proper, where no one but the Unspeakables were supposed to go. It was dark, the only light provided only by torches glowing with blue-white light.

Out of all the doors in the corridor, only one of them was open. Taking a deep breath, Scorpius walked into the Mark Registry office.

Albus looked up sharply while his quill was moving across a piece of parchment. “You’re early.”

“Sorry, you didn’t say what time--”

“No, it’s good, we can start now.” Albus put down his quill and stood up.

“Okay. What do you want me to do?”

Albus gestured at the chair across from him, on the other side of the desk. “Sit. I’ll get the files.” Albus said. “You are not allowed in the backroom.”

Scorpius watched Albus walk up to a painting at the back of the office--a portrait of Madam Hart, founding witch of the Registry, whom Scorpius recognized from the Markology class he’d taken in fourth year to keep Albus company.

“Password?” asked Madam Hart, and Albus whispered something to her. The portrait swung open, revealing an opening into a room that appeared to be full of file cabinets. Albus entered the backroom, leaving Scorpius by himself in the office. When Albus returned a few minutes later, he was holding a huge stack of files, tall enough that it covered his face.

He set the stack down on the desk. “We need to go through all of these and look for someone who has your name.”

“Wait,” Scorpius said, taking a folder off the top of the stack and opening it. "You’re telling me we have to read every single one of these and find someone whose profile has ‘Mark: Scorpius’ on it?”

“Yes.”

“But there must be hundreds of files.”

“Two thousand, five hundred and sixty-three to be exact. This pile is just this year’s files. Better get started.”

Scorpius began looking through the profiles. “Cecil Smith, Fiona MacMillan...hey, these are the third-years-- I mean, the kids at Hogwarts who were four years younger than us...” Scorpius trailed off, wondering if he should not have used the ‘us’ pronoun in case it implied that the two of them were a unit.

Albus didn’t blink. “Yes, it’s the most recent cohort. The files appear when they come of age. We’re not allowed to record minors, though 93% have their Marks by seventeen.”

Scorpius sighed. “Guess I’m the 7%...”

“Actually, 2%. By twenty-one, 98% of people have gotten their Marks.”

“Oh.” Scorpius had forgotten how blunt Albus could be.

The two of them sat at the desk, reading through files. The only noise in the room was the shuffling of papers as they made their way through the stack. Scorpius was tempted to try and start a conversation, but he knew Albus hated small talk. Besides, he seemed to be in a trance, flipping through files with trained fingers, going so quickly that it was hard to believe Albus was actually reading. So Scorpius kept his eyes on the papers, reading through them one at a time.

As Scorpius flipped through the files, the edge of a piece of paper nicked his skin. “Ow.” Scorpius sighed, getting out his wand. “Episkey,” he said, healing the cut. “There’s got to be a better way to do this.”

“If you have a better idea, go ahead.”

“All right,” Scorpius got up, still holding his wand. “I’m going to try a Finding spell and search for my name.” He performed the spell--the same one he did at work when looking up a rare condition in the large Encyclopedia of Magical Maladies-- holding his breath and waiting for one of the files to glow green. Nothing happened. He sat back down, disappointed.

Albus shut the file he was holding. “Well, that’s that. It’s not there. Like I said, there’s no such thing as one person having a Mark and the other person not having it. So you might as well leave, I have work to do.”

“But there’s so many other files...”

”I’ll search them in my spare time.”

Scorpius stood up and reluctantly put on his cloak. If Albus wanted him to leave, he would, but it didn’t feel right.

He turned towards the door to head out and almost bumped straight into a girl with fiery red hair.

“Lily?” he said.

Albus’s younger sister walked into the room, hand-in-hand with a tan-skinned, curly-haired Gryffindor girl whose name Scorpius couldn’t remember.

“Oh, _come on_ ,” Albus said with a groan.

Lily smirked at her brother as she walked up to the desk. “We’d like to get registered, please.”

“It’s my birthday,” said the other girl. “I’m seventeen.”

“You two couldn’t have waited a few weeks?” Albus said, angrily rifling through the pile of papers to find their files. “We’re going to go around and survey everyone in January anyway.”

“Nope, we want to do it now.” Lily said with a gleam in her eye.

The two girls were giggling to themselves, giving each other small looks like they shared a secret no one else knew, as they intertwined their fingers together. It struck Scorpius how young they looked, though they were only a few years younger than him. They were carefree in the way that teenagers are; they almost reminded Scorpius of himself when he was fifteen, kissing a boy for the first time, being thrilled and giddy when Louis had kissed him back.

Lily glanced over and saw Scorpius, noticing him for the first time. “Scorpius? Since when do you work here?”

“Er--I don’t actually...”

“He’s helping me,” Albus said curtly, then turned to Scorpius. “Do a search for Ella Thomas-Finnegan.”

Scorpius complied, performing the spell and easily finding the file for the girl. He watched Lily and Ella as they rolled up their sleeves for Albus to take a picture of their Marks, each bearing the other’s name.

“We’re getting engaged,” Lily informed Scorpius with a wide grin on her face.

“Congratulations,” he said politely.

“You’re only seventeen!” Albus protested. “Even James and Teddy aren’t engaged yet.”

“So? That’s them.”

Albus sighed. “Do Mum and Dad know?”

“Yep, and they 100% approve.” Lily gave her girlfriend a tiny smile. “When you know, you know.”

Scorpius nodded. “It’s never too early to get engaged to your soulmate.”

Albus turned to look at him, giving him a hard stare. Scorpius couldn’t tell what he was thinking, which bothered him.

“We’re thinking a summer wedding,” Lily told Scorpius excitedly. “You’re invited, of course. June 3rd.”

“The day after your birthday?” Scorpius couldn’t help it; the memory of the summer he’d stayed with Albus’s family was imprinted in his mind.

Lily’s eyes widened. “You remember my _birthday_?” Lily said.

“He remembers stuff like that,” Albus said, his tone sounding oddly impatient.

“Wow.” Lily said. “And you know what would be nice? If you helped us decorate. I’m thinking a pink-and-green theme, for the decor.”

“That sounds nice.” Scorpius glanced at Albus out of the corner of his eye. He was tapping on the table with his fingers; now he was getting really impatient.

“Alright,” said Albus, “it’s time for you guys to leave.”

Lily waved goodbye as she and Ella walked out the door.

As soon as the two girls had exited the room, Albus whirled around and addressed Scorpius. “You know what your problem is?”

“What?”

“You’re too attached to the idea of your so-called soulmate being the one person who’s best for you. You’re obsessed with this romantic idea thare’s someone you’re fated to be with.”

Scorpius thought this was rich coming from a bloke who had built his whole career around studying Marks, but he didn’t say it.

“You have to let go of this idea,” Albus continued. “You’d be better off dating single wizards than looking for your ‘perfect match’ or whatever.”

“But, soulmate Marks are an ancient form of Divination--”

“And like all Divination, it’s only a guide. 27% of wizards have a non-romantic relationship with their ‘soulmate’. 19% of wizards marry Muggles.”

“I don’t want to be with a Muggle. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, I’d just prefer being with someone who gets me, if you know what I mean.” Scorpius felt awkward all of a sudden. The one person who he had always felt got him was Albus himself. Scorpius was tempted to ask if Albus had found someone, but that was too personal of a question.

“It doesn’t have to be a Muggle, it can be anyone. My point is, your Mark isn’t your destiny, Scor.”

Scorpius’s heart skipped a beat. Scor. His old nickname, casually slipping from Albus’s tongue.

“Wouldn’t you rather choose,” Albus said, “than have to follow what’s written on your skin?”

“Well...” Scorpius bit his lip.

“I can’t make your Mark appear. But I can find you some wizards you might be interested in.” Albus gestured to the stack on his desk.

“I don’t know, I still think we should keep looking for my match.”

“That’s a pointless endeavor. I’ll do it, but I’m telling you, it’s useless. You should probably get going.” He pushed the stack of files aside and took out a scroll of parchment.

“Okay, I’ll leave then.” Scorpius got up and put on his cloak. He took the bulging sack of Galleons out of his pocket and placed it on Albus’s desk.

“I don’t need payment.”

“Yes, you do.”

“No, I don’t,” Albus said, levitating the sack back into Scorpius’s hands.

"At least let me take you for lunch or something.”

“Er...”

“There’s a coffee shop down the road,” Scorpius suggested, though he hated coffee. 

Albus looked at his watch. “Well, it _is_ time for my break.”

“Let’s go, then.”

The two of them headed downstairs and out into the Muggle world outside the Ministry building. Outside, the December air was stinging Scorpius’ face and he could feel the slight chill despite his mink-fur cloak. As they walked, Scorpius glanced over at Albus, who was keeping pace with Scorpius but not looking at him, staring instead at the shops as they passed by. He remembered the days when he used to walk side-by-side with Albus, their arms casually touching, his warmth a reassuring presence against him. The gap between them felt unnatural.

 _He poisoned you_ , Scorpius reminded himself. Sure, it might not have been on purpose, but the fact that Albus was willing to do that over mere jealousy about his date for a party was absolutely wrong. He couldn’t forget what Albus had done, no matter how much he might miss their friendship.


End file.
